


Quiet

by spectreshepard



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, ya'll need some fluff up in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreshepard/pseuds/spectreshepard
Summary: Being the Pathfinder is a full time job. Cora Harper is about the only one on that ship who understands.





	

Scott still feels vastly insignificant in his own room. ‘Pathfinder’s Quarters’, so callously slapped across the top of the doorway, a blinding reminder every time he seeks out refuge in the only space he has left. Even then, that _space_ only served to make Scott keenly aware of just how much was riding on his shoulders, and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. _Pathfinder_ had belonged to someone else, had belonged to his father. Now, it sits at the back of his throat, a garbled mess tumbling from uneasy lips when he has to introduce himself to outpost leader after leader, to research specialists, comm techs... to everyone who made the Initiative function in some small measure.

And they didn’t have a clue. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? 

A heavy sigh rolls across his shoulders as Scott cranes his neck back, stretching out the taut muscles that had been sat under heavy armour, all day, in Kadara’s sweltering heat. He’d managed to grab a shower when the duty shift ended, but it had done remarkably little for the way his muscles ache and pull under hot skin. A hand curls around the cool metal rail at the observation window, a brief respite as he takes in the view. From here, Scott can pretend Kadara is a peaceful colony, the closest thing to a golden world that they could find, and he could be satisfied with at least some small part of his job. People would have a home.

Except Kadara’s a fucking mess, and Scott knows that fact far too well. It’s burned into his eyelids; the rotting corpses in the slums, looters, backhanded deals that Scott had to turn a blind eye to while he did his best to make a home out of a lawless place. 

Easier said than done. Like pretty much every other aspect of his unwanted job. 

Scott barely hears the doors to his room slide open, and by the time he registers it, there’s a cool hand at his back, thrumming with blue. In that instant, his worries subside into a manageable fear, sitting awkwardly in his chest instead of coiling under his skin. A smile tugs at his lips as the hand travels up his spine to rest at his neck, gently unthreading the knot in his muscle.

“Stressing?” Cora’s voice is soft, easy to listen to, welcome in the harsh light of Kadara. Scott lets himself drift for a moment, eyes still locked on the stars in front of him. Cora easily maneuvers herself between Scott and the window rail, her eyes warm against his cold stare. She brings him back easily as her hands curl around his arms with a reassuring squeeze. Scott meets her gaze with a tired smile and a murmur to SAM to activate the night-shift display. Kadara fades from view as the holo grows dark and peaceful, an imitation of the galaxy they used to call home. 

“Oh, me and _stress_? We go way back.” Scott confirms lamely, his usual humour lacking. Cora notices, frowning slightly, but Scott just presses a kiss to the divot in her brow, and it’s forgotten. 

“You need to chill out, Scott. Take your time.” Cora reaffirms, leaning back against the rail as Scott’s hands fall comfortably at her waist. He’d been running on the lowest of the low for days, despite the crew’s best efforts to cheer him up. Something seemed off, ever since he’d come back from Sloane’s thinly-disguised ‘party’ in the port. Nobody had managed to coax it out of him so far. Cora wasn’t about to try: that was his business, his terms, and if he wanted to share, he would.

She just wanted him to know that they were _there_. He wasn’t alone.

“Pathfinding’s a full time job, you know.” the half-assed quips only add to Cora’s growing concern, despite Scott’s best efforts to turn the situation elsewhere.

“Oh, I know, and I don’t envy you in the _slightest_ ,” she manages a small smile, a playful tone, just enough to pull Scott out of his self-inflicted orbit, “But even the Pathfinder needs a break.”

Scott isn’t in any position to argue, so he gives in entirely, body slouching as he rests his forehead on hers, letting his eyes close for a moment. They’re sore with exhaustion, but he’s been too riddled with doubt and anxiety to get any reasonable sleep lately. And Cora’s _safe_ , a safe place, both his confidant and his confidence. Any doubts he had as Pathfinder were confronted and put down by her, but never with anger or exasperation, just... honesty. Trust is running thin in Heleus, and Scott had learnt, the hard way, how much it’s really worth.

“Can we sit? I’ll fall asleep on you in a sec.” Scott mumbles into her shoulder after a few moments more, and Cora suppresses a laugh, placing a kiss to his cheek before she pushes him back gently and takes his hand. She leads him to the sofa, but before she can move the cushions, Scott’s claimed half the seat, legs sprawled across the length of the sofa and he’s smiling up at her with half-lidded eyes and barely suppressed laughter.

“Uh, and where exactly is my seat?” Cora huffs, a wicked glint to her eye that Scott doesn’t miss, even with his senses crawling along at a snail’s pace to catch up with the rest of him. 

“You’re lookin’ at it.” 

“Charming.” 

Laughter bubbles over between the both of them, and Scott simply reaches forward to loop an arm around her waist, pulling her back down with him. She doesn’t resist, and finds her spot comfortably, fitting easily in the spaces that Scott doesn’t take up. It’s the safest she’s felt in a long time.

A comfortable, sleepy silence fills the room, warm and secure. Scott’s breathing has evened out, and Cora can feel his steady heartbeat under her hand, head resting on his shoulder. She wonders if he’s finally fallen asleep, but he stirs, and takes a breath that stutters in his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” she hears him ask, so quiet and uncertain. There’s a slight twinge at her heart when she hears that voice, but she squares it away and prepares to listen.

“Anything.” she says softly, and she knows she means it. 

“I don’t believe in soul mates, but I-” Scott’s words are loaded, Cora can practically feel the weight of them on his lips, but she waits for him to put them together again, “There’s an understanding between us that I haven’t felt for... a long time.”

There’s a pause as she takes his words in, a slow and subtle warmth growing outwards from her chest, reaching every nerve and humming under her skin. She smiles, her face already half-buried in his shoulder, and simply turns the words over and over silently in her mouth. They taste just as sweet every time. 

Eventually, she pulls herself together long enough to form a reply, propping herself up to look at him properly. The exhaustion sitting on his brow is painfully evident, but those blue eyes of his are still so _bright_ , and with every kind of possibility. Scott Ryder was a man of opportunity and chance, every word out of his mouth ran a gamble of some kind, whether it was on his own head or bartering with the lives of thousands of humans in cryo. And he _made_ it work. 

In truth, Cora did envy him a little. But only in that.

In everything else, she trusted him, entirely. And that meant the world to her.

Her smile is unshakeable, eyes fixed on him, and he returns his own wicked grin. And when she finally replies, she knows that she means every word.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”


End file.
